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The Little Deity, June 12, 1014
Part 1 “So you’re Nex Belain?” “Aye, friend. Come, have a drink and toast the day with me.” “A drink? This early? I would dare only drink this early on a holiday.” “Every day is a holiday when you’re as lucky as me.” The two men sat at a covered pavilion, the bright sun of Autumn City flooding the city square with golden warmth. It had been nearly one year since the return of Nex Belain from the north, and already he had outperformed himself on numerous occasions: capturing felons by accident, stumbling upon illicit substance deals, and barely killing countless vile creatures from uncivilized lands. The heroism seemed to come with ease, and even the usually humble Belain found time to revel in his successes. One would have assumed from the festivities that Belain had won the tournament of champions to the north; no one seemed to even care he hadn’t even made the finals. His return was enough to throw a party. “So I take it you are a Darkmoon?” Nex asked as he downed his drink of choice, Master Miller’s High Life Ale. “Aye, good sir. Garradir Browhest, soldier of the Third Legion of the Darkmoon Saints. May the blessings of Húrin be upon you.” “And upon you as well, friend. What brings a Darkmoon to Arn this bright, beautiful day?” “I am not at liberty to say, my lord. I am under divine contract, as it were.” “Ah of course. You are much more akin to the Darkmoons I imagined in my youth.” “…as opposed to?” “I am close with a member of your order, one Sinthaster Wolfeater. Do you know him?” “Aye, all soldiers are familiar with the Second Captain. Opinions of him vary wildly within our order. I myself find him a pleasant fellow, he trains with any who ask and offers council. It is not my place to judge a brother, however, let alone a senior within my order.” “Of course. Instead, we drink. And find you a lass, of course.” “Pardon, my lord?” Nex flagged down a woman. “Miss, care to try your luck this fine morning?” Nex twisted his exposed nipple ring playfully. “Ah, my jewelry tells me that luck is on your side this day.” The woman giggled and flittered away into the crowd. Nex laughed, and poured himself another drink. “Stay, Garradir, and I will find you a lass. I’m a terrible fisherman when I’m intoxicated, which is pretty much all the time, but even the worst fisherman lands a catch every now and then. I just have to throw out enough lines, ho ho!” He drank heartily. “I would love to stay, my lord, but I am to parlay with someone shortly, and I cannot be “occupied” should they arrive.” “What’s their name, soldier?” “I cannot say, my lord. It is a private matter.” “Will you tell me if I guess their name?” “Of course not, why would I…” “Is it Gendry?” Garradir froze. “Well, yes actually. How did you know?” “Lucky guess.” Nex threw his empty cup to the floor, stood on the table and shouted, “Gendry, get your ass to my table or I’ll bring my boot to your ass!” He sat down and felt immediately sad that he had just thrown his cup to the floor. Within moments a man rushed to the table where Nex and Garradir sat. He was tall, dark, and sported flowing robes and a shaved head. “What in the Seven was that all about?” He asked. “Ah, Gendry,” Garradir said, “glad you finally found me. Apologies for the method used. Shall we get on with business?” “Who is this?” Gendry asked, gesturing to Nex. Nex stood and grabbed the acolyte’s hand. “Nex Belain. The pleasure is all mine, Gendry. Sit, drink, be merry.” “Yes, Gendry Salburkur is my name. I’m not sure how you know it, but regardless… um, my apologies, Belain, but I must ask you to vacate. I have urgent matters to discuss with the Darkmoon.” Nex said nothing, but reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small silver coin and flipped it onto the table. Garradir took the coin in his hand, surprised. “This is a Darkmoon Covenant denarius. How did you come by this?” Garradir asked. “I found it.” Nex smirked. “You can have it, so long as you tell me what it is that’s so interesting here in Autumn City that a Darkmoon and Fumnite collaborate together.” “You found it?” Garradir asked. “A gift, actually. I have no use for it, but if you share your stories, you can have it.” “Why are you so interested in this discussion, Belain?” Gendry asked. “Because,” he replied. “I’m bored.” Part 2 The three men talked well into the afternoon, the wild party still raging about them. Apparently, Garradir had been chosen by an unnamed but potent spirit to travel to Autumn City and track down something very powerful: magic. Something, or someone, was permeating incredible magical power, and the spirit was interested. Garradir was to meet up with a diviner, Gendry, in order to track down the source, and return it to the Darkmoon for safekeeping. Nex had decided he was thoroughly interested and, much to the dismay of the other two, dragged them along to find this “magic” using nothing more than his profound ability to guess. It was evening by the time the trio came upon the faded archway of Mortem’s Orphanage. Using rumors, Gendry’s sense, and Nex’s ability to charm information out of nearly anyone, they believed this building to be their best bet. “So Gendry,” Garradir asked. “Do you feel any, well, anything? From this place, I mean.” “It doesn’t work like it did in ages past, Garradir. The visions come to me, not the other way around. Nex, what do you think?” Nex had already walked into the door and was well inside by the time the others realized. When they rushed in after him, they were stopped at the doorway by burly guards. Inside, they could see Nex sitting in a chair, waving to them to be calm. He was sitting across from an incredibly large man clad in armor and a thick black beard. Garradir put his hand on his sword and stared down the guards. “By the authority of Húrin and the Darkmoon Saints, I demand passage.” “You demand nothing, dog,” the guard on the left replied. “The Darkmoon have no power in Arn, and neither do you. Wait outside while we talk with Belain. You will be called if needed.” Garradir huffed in anger, but seeing Nex inside, smile on his face, calmed him. He stepped back, Gendry following suit, and waited in painful silence. Inside, Nex sat at a small table across from the bearded giant. Neither broke eye contact with the other. “I am Cyusos. You came here for the girl?” Nex Belain shrugged. “I came here because I guessed there might be something interesting for me here in this building. Not quite an orphanage anymore, is it? Unless you’re all orphans. I can see why you haven’t been adopted yet either.” “You are funny. Funny doesn’t suit me well.” “I can suit all kinds of people, you’d be surprised what can fit where with just a little bit of lubrication and willpower.” A man slowly walked up behind Nex, brandishing a large club. He loomed over the hero, a glare of malice about him. “We are very protective of her,” Cyusos said. “It would be wise of you to leave now.” “Nonsense, my friends outside are here on an errand. We can’t just leave now. We came here for that magic, a girl apparently, and we aren’t going to leave until we see it or her.” “You may be Nex Belain, but you are still just a man. If you do not leave now, you will tempt fate.” “I tempt.” Nex replied, a smirk on his face. The man behind Nex swung his club with all his might towards the hero’s head. In that moment, however, the front legs of Nex’s chair broke. He fell forward, barely escaping the club’s vicious swing, and face-planted the floor. The club continued on its trajectory and careened into the wall. Unfortunately, the collision shattered a support beam, sending shrapnel into Cyusos’s eyes. He fell backwards in pain, giving Nex time to move out of range of the club. Nex drew the two swords on his side and pressed the attack. The clubman was strong but slow, and Nex danced around his strikes with ease. The guards outside split up, allowing one to attack Garradir and Gendry while the other attempted to swarm Belain. Nex anticipated the flank and struck out with incredible speed. His cobra strikes, famous throughout the realms, struck one man in the collarbone, felling him instantly. The other arm sliced the forearm of the clubman, rendering his arm useless. Nex continued with another strike to the shin, cutting deep to the bone. The man cried out in pain before falling to the ground. Nex finished with a flourishing strike deep into the man’s heart. “Not your lucky day, friends, but it was mine.” It was then that Garradir and Gendry rushed inside, the last guard slain in the street. All that remained was Cyusos, his eye bleeding. He stood, one hand on the socket and the other around his sword. As he prepared to swing, a voice rang out from further within the building. “Stop this at once!” The men turned to see a young girl, no more than 12, standing in the hallway. Her eyes were soaked in blood. “My lady!” Cyusos exclaimed, rushing to her. He dropped his sword and produced a water basin and rag. He quickly wet the rag and soaked her face, drying her cheeks and eyes of crusted blood. “Forgive me, I could not stop them. Are your tears for my brothers?” “Yes,” she said, staring down Nex Belain. The trio were confused by Cyusos’s sudden change of demeanor, not to mention the attitude of the young girl. There was suddenly a chill, an emptiness about the room. Nex, commonly so confident in his surroundings, felt an odd biting in his stomach. He looked at the girl and noticed her eyes. Fluctuating, morphing from icy blue to jet black. He didn’t know why, but he felt like screaming. She walked past Cyusos, her blue dress stained with dirt gliding across the floor. “You are Nex Belain, son of Toka, Champion of Arn, the Southern Cobra, child of Rakau and Lady Luck’s Lover, correct?” “Yes, I am all of those things you just said.” “And you two, speak your names.” Garradir made to speak, but Gendry nudged him. Gendry interjected, “I think not, spirit. If you know our names, that will give you power over us.” “A spirit?” Nex said, curious. “Not quite,” the girl said. “Here, in this place, I am Lidiya. I know you are a follower of the teachings of Fumna, and your friend in the purple follows Húrin, am I right?” “That is no difficult leap, Lidiya," Gendry said. "We are both wearing recognizable attire for our specific orders, anyone could have guessed that.” “I also know that you have never killed a man. You, on the other hand, have,” she said, motioning to Garradir. “Oh?” He replied. “Yes. You have killed six people in your lifetime. The most recent was Huj, the man outside." "Obvious, again," Garradir said. "Before him was Kylee Bregtin of Westhome," Lidiya resumed. "He had it coming to be honest, though he led a very hard life. Before that was Hildegard of Sharya and Tenos Dryar, two sell swords that ambushed you on the North Road.” “How are you…” “Before that, you killed an innocent man, Jack Mathers, in his field. I can only assume you were then convicted of your crimes and ended up serving as a Darkmoon as penance, correct?” “This isn’t…” “And the first person you ever killed, oh Darkmoon, was your own mother; Deanna Browhest died in childbirth. I remember taking her into my arms and listening to her weep with both sorrow and joy. You were a “beautiful child” she told me as she looked down upon you from beyond the Veil. She was sad she never got to hold you, but then I took her sorrow from her. It was a heavy sadness.” “My god,” Gendry said, stunned. “Yes,” she replied, “That is one title you may call me.” Garradir collapsed on the ground, his emotions pulling him down to the earth like necrotic hands. Nex walked up to the girl, no fear on her face. “Tell me,” he said, all bluster and bravado gone from his voice. “Who are you?” “I told you, my name is Lidiya, though I am fairly certain that slightly longer than 12 years ago, I was Unquala, Goddess of Death. Now then, shall we talk?” Nex suddenly realized that, surrounding him and his partners, were all the men he had just killed. The room grew deathly cold, and in that instant, Nex realized that maybe this one time, luck wouldn’t be enough to save him. Part 3 So they stood, on feet not faltered, Belain clad red in blood. Garradir, Gendry, both men worn, their arms hewn in gore. Cyusos guarded Lidiya, his eyes raw and his left one blinded. “Enough,” Lidiya said. Her guardians, being felled a second time, were laid to rest before her feet. As she turned her gaze from their cadavers, her eyes settled on Nex’s. Her eyes ran red with fresh blood, the clean cheeks Cyusos had wiped freshly soiled. “You,” she said, seemingly unfazed by the crimson ebb, “have the touch of the divine about you. You all do. As such, I would see you replace the men who served me prior to their recent demise.” Gendry scoffed, “Rubbish. I serve Fumna, not Unquala, as you so claim to be. The Goddess of Mercy dictates that I shall slay no living man or woman; surely, servitude to the Goddess of Death would lead me into conflict with this ideal.” “But you so readily attacked my men outside, what difference is there then?” “I only maimed,” Gendry said, Garradir stepped forward. “Lidiya, we are humbled by your powers, but there is still nothing that convinces me beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are indeed Unquala. A powerful spirit you may be, or perhaps a gifted necromancer who has rekindled the Dark Arts…” He paused, “and can see the pasts of mortal men.” “Further proof?” She asked. It was then that she saw the sword on Nex’s back. He had not used it during the skirmish; it was bound in wrappings and secured tightly against him. She seemed to grow cold. “Nex,” she said, “Give me that sword.” Confused, Nex obliged. As he took it off his back and set it upon the ground, the wrappings gave way to reveal a shimmering black blade, taller and mightier than what most men could manage. Nex began to speak as he produced the weapon. “This sword is named-” “Malek’Reth,” Lidiya said. “…Yes, how did you know?” “A weapon long since lost, now bound to you. Maybe not so lucky after all,” she said, a little smirk adorning her pale face. “What can you tell me of this blade?” Nex asked. “Follow me, fight for me, and all you wish to know will be yours.” Without a word, Nex knelt before her and offered a resounding thump upon his golden chest with his clenched hand. “My heart is yours, then, Lidiya of…” he paused to study his surroundings. “Lidiya of the soiled orphanage.” She giggled. “And you?” She asked, gesturing to the two other men. As soon as she had asked, Garradir had already laid his sword before the tiny girl. “May Húrin’s son fight for you, my liege.” “A question, then, Garradir; should you ally yourself with me, what will become of your service to the Great Judge? If my journey should bring you into conflict with the Darkmoon Saints, will you forsake your brothers in arms for me?” Garradir paused, his gaze locked to the floorboards below. “I am a Darkmoon Saint,” he said, “a judge of men and mission. Should your cause bring me to bear arms against my order, I can only promise this: I will judge who stands in the right at that time, and act accordingly. As a son of Húrin, this is my promise. I only ask that you allow me time to send a letter back to the Darkmoon, telling them of my new mission. My contract will be broken, but some causes are worth it.” “Then that is sufficient, Garradir Browhest,” Lidiya replied. “I hope to never force that decision upon you.” She then turned lastly to Gendry, who stood defiant against her visage. “And you?” “I was sworn to accompany Garradir until he released me…” “And you shall follow,” Lidiya said. “I order Garradir to order you to follow.” Nex laughed heartily, “I like your logic, Lidiya. I feel we have a gran partnership ahead of us.” “Nex,” she said with a solemn drone, “our union will shake the pillars of Lancerus.” Notable Achievements - First Event at Beverly Park - Last event at Beverly Park - First event broken up by police, twice Previous Chapter - Tournament of Champions, Valrose, June 1013 Next Chapter - The Luckiest Sword Alive: Unto the Sea of Embers, July 1015 Category:World Lore